


The Professor

by UnholyNightmare



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, College, Desk Sex, M/M, Professors, Shameless Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyNightmare/pseuds/UnholyNightmare
Summary: Ash Lynx has been lusting after Professor Glenreed ever since he took Max's beginning English class his sophomore year of college. Lusting after, but it's never gone further than his own head.Now he's back at that same college for his Masters degree in English, and with a scholarship that requires him to be the graduate assistant of an English professor.Professor Glenreed's graduate assistant.And this time, Ash doesn't think he can contain his desire any longer.
Relationships: Max Lobo & Ash Lynx, Max Lobo/Ash Lynx
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	The Professor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salmon95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon95/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Salmon!!!!!](twitter.com/sushisalmon95)  
> Thank you for always inspiring me with the most incredible MaxAsh art in the universe <3 <3 <3

The clock up above him _tick, tick, ticks_ , filling the empty hallway with needless noise.

It’s 5:04 pm and Ash is starting to get irritated.

His glasses fall down the bridge of his nose as he looks back down to his phone, pulling up the email one more time, checking it again, as though maybe this version will look different.

It’s not.

It’s exactly the same.

_Looking forward to meeting with you to go over expectations. I’m sure you already get the gist._

**** **_4:30pm | Monday, December 5th_ **

The time and date are highlighted that obnoxious blue, so that Ash could click on it and save it to his calendar if he so desired.

He doesn’t. He can remember dates just fine without that.

Apparently Professor Glenreed can’t.

Professor Glenreed doesn’t even sign his name to the note. It’s the most informal email correspondence Ash thinks he’s ever received from a teacher, and this just ratchets his anxiety higher.

He’s not entirely sure what to expect, and the Professor being late is causing his palms to sweat even more.

Ash is very familiar with Glenreed already, though he doesn’t know if the man remembers him at all. Ash had taken one of his classes as a sophomore here–just a lower level english requirement for his journalism degree. The class name itself wasn’t anything of note: **English 124: Writing and Literature**

Ash remembers the class being completely full–every desk used by a student trying to cram in the basic requirements as quickly as humanly possible.

He also remembers being unreasonably inspired by Professor Glenreed’s passion. By his excitement. He remembers the exact way Glenreed smiled as he assigned _The Iliad_ to them–a book almost everyone had already read by that point, and that no one had any desire to study further.

Glenreed had just split them all into groups though, and assigned each a different translation and they were to compare and contrast, looking for different meanings to the writing that maybe had never been considered.

It was the sort of investigative work that drew Ash to journalism, and he was surprised to find himself equally inspired by an archaic classic.

That was part of it.

The other part was just that...well.

Professor Glenreed was fucking gorgeous.

Even thinking back on this now, Ash can feel his cheeks start to flush, and he pulls his backpack into his lap, rifling through and looking for anything to take his mind off of waiting, or memories, or whatever _this_ is.

And so it is that the contents of his backpack spill all over his lap and all over the ground right as the elevator doors across from the office ding open, revealing the man in question.

“Fuck,” Ash says under his breath, trying to scoop everything back together and shove it in the well-worn messenger bag.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” Professor Glenreed replies at the exact same time, hurrying over and kneeling to help.

His calloused hands brush against Ash’s during the exchange, and of course this makes Ash flush even more, and of course Ash is so flustered that he swears again, and of course this time Professor Glenreed hears and cocks an eyebrow at him.

Ash is absolutely frozen, petrified, has forgotten every word of the English language.

But Glenreed just smiles, finishes putting everything back in the bag, and hands it over to Ash. “You still good to meet right now?” he asks, standing up again.

He’s wearing a dark blue sweater that hugs every muscle of his arms, and his perfectly creased slacks fall loosely around dark blue Adidas tennis shoes. Even that ridiculous juxtaposition causes Ash to swallow hard.

He’s fairly certain that he’s just fallen in love all over again.

Ash isn’t stupid. He’s well aware of the ‘my teacher’s hot and I want to fuck him’ stereotype in college, and he’s also well aware that he fits that to a tee.

It’s just...19 year-old Ash had wet dreams about the man, and woke up so hard he couldn’t breathe with it. 19 year-old Ash jerked himself off in the dormitory showers, pressing his eyes closed so tightly that he could almost pretend the sounds of the other boys showering were nothing, and that instead, Professor Glenreed was right behind him, whispering along the curve of his neck, kissing his shoulder…

It was something he imagined would fade eventually.

It didn’t.

Somewhere along the way, the journalism degree became less a focal point, and the study of ancient translations became far more interesting. So much so, that when he graduated with his degree in the aforementioned subject, he quickly turned around and came back to the same University, to earn his Master’s in English.

And that’s where he is now. Smart enough to have earned himself a graduate assistant position. Stupid enough to not consider how few professors were taking on new GSAs, and how likely something like _this_ were to occur–being assigned to assist a man he’s been lusting after for 3 years .

“So...you can?” Glenreed was saying, clearly repeating himself.

Ash jumped up, shaking his head of any previous thought, and pushing up his glasses again with his pointer finger. “Sure. Yeah, I’m free.”

Glenreed fumbles for a second with his keys at the door, and Ash tries to keep his eyes anywhere but the man’s ass. (He fails. He fails horribly.)

Finally, they enter, Ash drops his bag on the floor, and pulls out the chair on the student side of the desk, while Glenreed hurries around, flicking on some god-awful 70s looking lamp that stands in the corner of the office, so cock-eyed, Ash is certain it’s about to fall and cause a fire. Then he opens his laptop, waiting for the whir of it to start, before he finally sits down, pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the top desk drawer, and lights one.

“Oh,” he says, looking up at Ash for a moment. “You want one?”

“Uh…” Ash isn’t sure if this is a test, or if this is a genuine offer. All he knows is that watching Glenreed wrap his lips around the tiny rolled joint is making him...feel things. “Aren’t you not supposed to smoke in here?” is what he settles on saying, and it’s at that point that he decides he should probably just get up, ram his head into the wall a few times, and then, on his way out the door, quit the entire degree program and announce that he’s moving to Ecuador.

Glenreed laughs a little. “Yeah, probably not. Got tenure just this last year though so...who gives a fuck?” He leans over the table then, arm outstretched with the small packet. “You want one?”

The way the man breathes the word ‘fuck’ makes all of the hairs on Ash’s arms rise, tingling with desire. This is something so dangerous that Ash’s heart quickens exponentially. He reaches forward though, carefully snagging a cigarette, then before Max can even offer the lighter, he leans just enough so that he’s eye to eye with Max, so that he brushes the end of this cigarette against of Professor Glenreed’s cherry.

Afterwards, he has no idea why he’s done it.

He thinks his mind has completely blanked.

He thinks he’s had a stroke.

He thinks the Ecuador plan isn’t so bad after all.

Glenreed just sits back though, with a huff of surprise. He doesn’t say anything, just watches Ash as he takes a deep drag in, then lets the small swirl of smoke color the air.

“I…” Ash tries, also inhaling deeply, entirely reliant on nicotine to stop his nerves from buzzing right out of his skin. “I’m sorry–”

“ _You_ are interesting,” Glenreed says with a small smile.

His blue eyes are lit in the glow of the cigarette, and the low lamplight–but nothing more. The office itself probably feels warm, and inviting normally, but right now, the lack over fluorescent overheads is making things savagely treacherous. Ash grips the arm of his chair with one hand, trying to steady his breathing.

“So tell me why you’re here?”

Ash knows this isn’t a question as to the reason he’s in this office right now, but more a general sense. “Well,” he starts, leaning forward for a moment again to flick the ash into the small copper tray near Glenreed’s computer.

Glenreed doesn’t take his eyes off of Ash the entire time.

“I’ve been interested in translation for a long time. It’s something that I suppose was inspired by...well. I don’t know if you remember this but I took your class a few years back and–”

“I remember,” Glenreed says quietly, eyes still following Ash’s every move..

There’s a fluttering turn of his stomach and Ash has to swallow to gather his thoughts again. “I didn’t change my major then,” he continues. “But I did want to pursue that line of study further in a more advanced sense. And I found your class...I found you…”

It’s dangerous again, and he knows that there are two ways he can play this. One, he can pretend to ignore the past few minutes and go the completely academic route. This is what he should do. This is what is proper, this is how he will keep his scholarship.

Two. He can burn it all to the ground.

“I found you intoxicating,” he murmurs, low in his throat. His cheeks are burning even more furiously now, and his leg is starting to bump up and down so fast that the table is shaking.

Glenreed doesn’t say anything, and he’s so still he’s almost not breathing at all, but he watches Ash, eyes bright and...interested.

“I’ve dreamed about you,” Ash goes on, ignoring every warning chime in his head. “I’ve woken up with your name on my lips, Professor Glenreed.”

“Max,” the older man says, breaking his silence. His voice is throaty and deep, and Ash almost shudders with it. “You can call me Max.”

“Max,” Ash murmurs.

Oh god, it feels so good to finally say it. To be sitting across from the man and watching his every move and to know, to know, to _know_ , that he’s interested. “Max,” he says again, letting the last bit of sound hiss from his lips.

And Max closes his eyes, a shiver passing through his body.

Ash almost moans from that alone. He carefully stubs out his cigarette in the bowl, and reaches over and gently closes Max’s laptop. Then he moves around the side of the desk, coming to Max’s side, pushing out the chair slowly, plucking Max’s cigarette from his mouth and stubbing that out too. Finally, he kneels at Max’s feet, right between Max’s legs. “Do you want me?” he asks quietly, reverently, absolutely terrified to hear the answer.

Max’s hands have turned to fists, gripping the sides of the chair so tight the wood looks strained. He closes his eyes tight and presses a fist to his forehead, breathing deeply. “This is a very bad idea,” he whispers.

Ash puts the palms of his hands on Max’s thighs, lets them ride upward, pushing the fabric of Max’s slacks further and further. Then he lets go, rising up just high enough to brush back a mussed lock of reddish blond hair from his face. “Do you want me?” he asks again, this time lower, throatier, wet with desire.

“Oh my god,” Max says.

Ash can see him already hardening in his slacks, his cock pushing against the thin fabric easily. “You do,” he whispers.

A thrill of excitement travels down his spine, and he’s nervous, but he’s also so turned on he can’t seem to get in a full breath. Ash has wanted this for so many years and now? In Max’s own office? Where any other student could walk in on them at any time?

The thrill of discovery is surprisingly just fueling him even more.

Ash stands up carefully and then crawls into Max’s lap, straddling him easily. “I’ve wanted you for a very long time, Professor Glenreed,” he murmurs, tucking his head against Max’s throat and licking up to his ear.

Max is trembling beneath him and it gives Ash such a thrill of power that he’s having trouble containing himself.

“Ash,” Max groans, jerking up against him for just a moment.

Ash grinds down and fists a hand through Max’s hair, holding his head to the side just enough so that he can lick around the shell of Max’s ear. “What do you want to do?” he murmurs, mouth right up against Max’s ear, thrusting his hips forward again and feeling Max’s hardness against his own.

“Oh my god,” Max repeats, followed by a small moan of pleasure as Ash presses even closer.

“You don’t know?” Ash asks. “Do you want me to tell you what I want instead?”

Max can’t even answer this, he just nods frantically in Ash’s grasp.

Smiling, Ash lets go, and then slides back to the floor easily, kneeling between Max’s spread legs.

Max gasps at the loss of heat between them, and tries to grab at Ash again, tries to pull him back up.

“No,” Ash orders. “I want you to fuck me, Professor Glenreed. I want you to fuck me, _Max_.”

“Fuck,” Max lets escape, pressing a fist to his mouth. His other hand has started drifting further down, and he almost wraps it around his billowing erection, but stops himself just shy.

Ash reaches up and easily unbuttons the Professor’s slacks, zipping down quickly, and letting Max’s cock burst free.

It’s even bigger than Ash imagined, standing so straight and red, and Ash can’t help the little whimper of pleasure that escapes his mouth. He wraps a hand around the base, so gently that his skin is barely brushing against the velvety skin of Max’s cock, and watches as Max throws his head back, fist back in his mouth stifling a moan.

It’s all moving so fast.

Not fifteen minutes ago, he was sitting outside this room, certain that the Professor had forgotten him, nervously trying to push every memory of the man to the back of his head so that he wouldn’t walk in and think of…

Well.

This.

And now Ash has bent down, his lips parting slightly, breathing against the tight, coiled hairs of Max’s groin, and trying desperately not to start rutting against Max’s leg with his own, painfully hard erection.

“I want you inside me,” he whispers, closing his eyes tight suddenly as another wave of embarrassment washes over him.

Ash fallen asleep with the words on his tongue, has done this a million times in his head, but saying it out loud makes everything so _sharp_ , and edges rub in ways that dreams never do.

Max stiffens underneath him, then he leans forward, pushing Ash back just enough so that he can cup Ash’s jaw with one hand. “You do not _need_ to do this,” he whispers hoarsely, as though it’s taking everything in his power to speak at all. “We could...this could...this is not a good idea–”

“You want me though, don’t you?” Ash asks. He lets his tongue dart out, wetting just the barest edge of his lower lip. His glasses are slipping down again, but he doesn’t move to fix them, doesn’t want to set this moment askew.

Closing his eyes again with a groan, Max slowly nods his head.

“Good.” Ash reaches up and carefully dislodges Max’s hand, taking it in his own. “Look at me, Professor Glenreed,” he murmurs, another thrill of danger zipping down his spine.

Max opens his eyes.

“I’m going to stand up,” Ash continues, even as he’s already moving to stand. “I’m going to unbutton my pants,” his fingers are already working at the small brass button, and then he’s pushing them down around his ankles, stepping out carefully. “Oh,” he moans, still watching Max. This thrill of power that’s filling him is fantastic. Every movement he makes, Max tracks, pupils dilated, breath catching in his throat.

Ash is doing that to him, and it makes him feel so incredibly hot.

He lets his fingers push up at the hem of his t-shirt, playing with the band of his briefs. “Do you want more?” he asks, gasping a little as his fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his stomach.

“God, yes,” Max says.

He hasn’t moved an inch, he’s just watching Ash with his lips parted, chest moving with every breath. His cock is still so hard, and lies against his thigh. Ash can see the head already beading with precum even though Max isn’t even being touched.

“Shirt next,” Ash says, easily slipping off the cotton t-shirt, and pulling it over his shoulders and head. It catches just for a moment on his glasses, and Ash shakes his head a little to free the fabric before dropping it next to his feet. “More?”

Max just nods, his white-knuckled grip on the chair even tighter.

Slipping a finger underneath the waistband, Ash slowly, carefully pushes down the tight black fabric, letting his own cock burst free. The briefs fall down to his feet, but Ash ignores that for the moment, instead taking his dick in his hand and grasping a hand around the base, stroking up and gasping deep at the shock of pleasure. “Oh god,” he exhales, eyes closing for a moment. “Oh god, yes, yes–”

There’s a flurry of motion then–Max stands from the chair so fast Ash almost doesn’t even catch it, and then is on top of him, wrapping a huge hand around Ash’s waist and backing him up against the desk. “You’re such a tease,” he groans, nuzzling his nose against the dip of Ash’s throat.

Ash just moans in pleasure, so happy to be touched, so excited by every move his Professor makes.

Max thrusts against Ash for a moment, then opens his mouth at Ash’s neck and starts to suck a bruise into the skin.

“Max,” Ash gasps, wanting more, needing more. His skin is on fire with how much he wants to be fucked and he tries to reach down to touch himself again but Max just grabs his wrist, forcing it back to the desk.

“You wanna play this game,” Max growls at his throat, “then you listen to me.”

Ash can’t help the shiver that overtakes him at those words, so feral and deep against his throat. “Yes,” he whispers, as Max’s releases his wrist, and then slowly, slowly traces a line up the curve of his hip, past his ribs, and then back down again, palm pressed flat against Ash’s belly.

Max smiles against his skin. “Turn around,” he orders.

A small whimper of sound escapes Ash’s lips, but he obeys, so nervous, so excited, so desperate for Max’s touch.

“Good boy,” Max praises him. His hand brushes along Ash’s hip, then carefully down further, wrapping around Ash’s cock and pumping just once.

Ash jerks against the desk with a moan.

“Bend over,” Max commanded, releasing suddenly.

Ash does, the wood of the desk so cold and hard against his soft skin that he shivers again, more intensely this time.

There is the swishing sound of Max’s slacks falling, and then Max bends over Ash again, so warm, so big, so fucking hot.

“Professor Glenreed,” Ash moans against the wood of the desk. He can feel Max’s cock brushing between his legs, and it’s so enormous. He can’t imagine taking all of it inside of himself, but he’s also so desperate to be filled that it hurts.

The air in the office is cold, and there are goosebumps prickling over Ash’s skin. Then he feels Max bend down ever so slightly and…

There’s a puff of hot air against Ash’s hole as Max blows.

“Ahhh,” Ash gasps, his hole twitching at the breath. “Ahh, oh god, Max–”

“What do you want from me?” Max asks him, blowing again ever so slightly.

“Fuck me,” Ash groans immediately. “Oh god, please fuck me, please Max, please Professor, please fuck me–”

Max thrusts against Ash suddenly, so hard that Ash can feel the desk bruising against his hips, so violent and sudden that Ash cries out.

Max wraps a hand around Ash’s mouth though, and leans over his ear, lips brushing against the shell of as he whispers, “no noise.”

“Mmmm,” Ash whimpers, nodding his head as quick as he can.

Max is spitting into the palm of his free hand now, and rubbing at Ash’s whole, finger massaging the skin until it’s able to sink in just a bit, and then just a bit more, and then–

Ash needs more, he wants to be filled, so he rocks back as quickly as he can–

“Slow,” Max murmurs, adding a second finger, and scissoring them deep inside of Ash.

“Mmmm,” Ash keens against Max’s hand, squeezing his eyes closed so tightly it hurts. His glasses suddenly fall to the desk, a clink of noise, and he doesn’t care, he just wants to be fucked so badly he could cry.

“Quiet,” Max orders again, soft but authoritative.

He adds a third finger, and it stretches so much that it burns, but Ash just wants more. He can’t stand it, this slow preparation. He wants it to hurt, he wants Max to fuck him so hard he can barely walk.

It’s all he’s thought about for the last three years.

“Mmmm….mmaxxx…” he bites out, behind Max’s hand. “Pppllea…”

“Quiet, you naughty little boy,” Max huffs.

Suddenly his fingers are gone, and Ash feels so empty he shudders against the desk. He needs more now, he needs to touch himself, he wants to cum so badly with Max’s cock hard, and thick inside of him.

But then Max is lining up behind him, and his hand falls from Ash’s face, clasping Ash’s hand on the desk so hard it hurts.

“Ready?” he huffs, voice so deep and liquid with desire.

“Please,” moans Ash, trying to hard to stay quiet.

Max is careful–so careful Ash almost screams out loud. He enters Ash with the slowest push imaginable, his cock stretching the walls of Ash’s hole and rubbing so exquisitely. Ash tries to push back against him, but Max holds him still, orders him not to move.

Ash’s own cock is dripping between his legs, and he’s going to go crazy with the order not to touch himself. Max is still pushing in, further, and further, and Ash whimpers– his teeth clenched so tightly his entire jaw hurts.

And then Max bottoms out, entire length deep within Ash, so big Ash can swear he can feel his belly distended with it.

“Oh my god, you feel amazing,” Max groans, burrowing his nose into the back of Ash’s neck. He starts to move, just tiny, thrusting motions, hips circing against Ash’s backside. “Oh god,” he moans again. “Oh fuck–”

Ash can’t think straight. He can’t concentrate on anything. Max is hitting that perfect spot inside of himself over and over and each time it’s like a burst of electric pleasure through his entire body. He knows that he’s being too loud, and he knows that he’s going to get them caught, but he can’t stop the desperate noises falling from his lips. “Ahh,” he sobs, “Ahh...ahh...Max...Ahh...Please–”

Max is thrusting harder now, pulling back far enough that when he slams back in the desk moves a little, and he’s also grunting loudly, feral noises filling the office air.

“Please,” Ash repeats, trying to touch himself again.

Max lets him this time, lets up on his wrist enough that Ash can reach down and wrap a hand around his impossibly hard cock. “Oh,” he gasps out as he starts to pump himself. “Oh, oh, oh, oh–”

“Kid,” Max groans, “Kid...I…”

“Ash,” Ash manages to groan out. He needs Max to call him this, he need to hear his name from Max’s lips as he cums.

“Ash.”

It’s too much, Ash cums with a cry all over the underside of the desk, coating his hand in sticky wetness. His entire body jolts with the force of his orgasm, and there are still sparks and quivers of movement as he falls limp to the desk again.

Max only thrusts a few more times before he’s cumming too–jerking stiff against Ash once as he cries out.

It’s so loud Ash is certain that someone can hear them, but he doesn’t care. This is everything. He can feel the hotness inside of him, and as Max slowly pulls out with a groan, he can feel it start to drip down his leg.

There’s something incredibly animalistic within himself that rears up, and for a moment, Ash fights the urge to reach behind himself and dip the pads of his fingers in the mess. He wants to taste Max more than anything, lap at that stickiness with his tongue. Just the thought of it causes Ash to tremble again and let out a little moan of pleasure.

“Fuck,” Max says behind him, leaning across the desk next to Ash now, his head in his hands, his fingers gripping the short strands with white knucked ferocity. “Oh fuck.”

He sounds truly terrified, Ash realizes. He’s no longer caught up in the throws of brief pleasure, and his breathing is starting to come in harsh, raspy gasps. Ash turns his head just enough to see Max’s broad back, to see the bright red flush that starts at his shoulders and creeps all the way up his neck around his ears.

“...’s okay,” Ash murmurs, too languid from being fucked to want to move anywhere. His arms splay usesly across the desk, and his teeth are rubbing at the inside of his cheek from how the side of his face presses into the wood. He doesn’t care. Everything is fuzzy, everything is easy.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Max goes on, gripping his hair even tighter.

The muscles of his back are standing out in stark relief even despite the dark blue sweater as his entire upper body tenses.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he corrects.

“Max...it’s okay,” Ash says quietly, a smile slowly blooming on his face. “Professor Glenreed I mean.”

Max turns his head at that, looking at Ash for the first time since he’d asked Ash to turn around. His blue eyes are so bright, and there’s shame there, growing and growing with every breath he takes.

Ash recognizes this. It’s an emotion he’s particularly familiar with.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Max says again, this time with finality. He stands back up and quickly pulls up his slacks, buttoning them with ease, then running a hand through his hair. “Uh...fuck. Fuck.”

He clearly has no idea what to say, and suddenly that shame spreads to Ash, infecting him with a churning nervousness that he’s massively screwed everything up.

 _You knew what you were doing_ , he thinks to himself, even as his hands start to tighten into fists. “It’s not your fault,” Ash finally says, pushing himself up. Max’s cum is mixing with his own now, sticky and wet on his thighs. Somewhere unseen, the underside of the desk is sprayed with it as well. Ash’s own ears turn pink with the thought. “I shouldn’t have...I mean...I guess…”

It’s funny, how suddenly he’s back to being so nervous he can barely speak. Ash shakes his head, biting his lower lip as he reaches across the desk for the box of tissue. “Uh...it was my idea and I totally understand if you want to fire me,” he bursts out, wiping himself down and then trying to gracefully get into his briefs and jeans as quickly as humanly possible.

“What?” Max asks.

He’s still standing in the same position, hand still in hair, face still bright red, looking lost, and confused, and just as nervous as Ash feels.

“Oh,” Ash says. “Uh, I just mean...I’m guessing you don’t want me to be your assistant after this, and that’s fine–”

He cuts off abruptly as he sees Max’s jaw tense, suddenly, like he’s going to speak.

Max doesn’t. He drops his hand, squints his eyes closed for a long moment as though he’s seriously considering his next words, then he quietly walks around Ash, back to his side of the desk, opening his laptop once again and letting it whir to life.

“Aslan Lynx,” he finally says, after a very long few minutes. “Ash, then?”

“Uh...yeah? Ash is good.”

Max nods, typing at something on the computer. “So you’re going to be helping with my lower level English class. English 124 Writing and Literature. You’ll be teaching the discussion classes which meet on Mondays and Wednesdays at 10:30AM. Then you will also be expected to be present at the Lecture class on Fridays at the same time. I’m guessing you already know all that, right?”

Ash gapes at him. He’s barely got his shirt over his head, and he reaches across the desk, right next to where Max’s hand rests on the edge of his laptop, for his pair of glasses.

“Is that still alright with you?” Max asks, prodding him for an answer.

It’s the meeting they were supposed to have at 4:30pm. Ash looks to the wall clock, which reads 5:38pm and is ticking steadily towards the next hour. “Yes,” he answers softly, but when he looks back at Max, Max is studying him with that piercing blue stare.

“Good,” he says. “Are you going to be able to contain yourself in lecture class?”

Ash is pretty sure his entire body has burst into some shade of red. He laughs nervously, and ducks his head down. “Might be hard,” he murmurs, but he’s smiling now, that layer of nervousness is quickly being eaten away by anticipation.

“You’ll have to,” Max chides, also with a grin. “But my office is always open.”

Then he closes the laptop, walks quickly to the door, and opens it, ushering Ash out with a single hand, and a very obvious smirk.

Ash follows his lead, walking out of the office and waiting for Max as he locks it behind himself. They stand together at the elevator, waiting, waiting, waiting for the car to make it all the way up 7th floor before coming back down to the 6th.

Then it dings, and opens, and there are three other people standing inside, also going down.

Max walks in with a smile, greeting his other professor colleagues. He turns just long enough to hold the door for Ash.

Ash can still smell sex on himself, can still feel the way Max’s cock pounded into his ass, but that desperate, unquenchable yearning he’s felt for three years has eased, ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Professor Glenreed,” he says with a smile, and he steps into the elevator.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](twitter.com/agentcoop1)  
> 


End file.
